


Teamwork

by laEsmeralda



Series: Plain Truths [7]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 02:14:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3833212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laEsmeralda/pseuds/laEsmeralda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>... in which the new complexity of relationships gets messed up before it gets better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teamwork

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to UnromanticPoetess for her encouragement on this chapter and her parallel creativity in [The Trust Part](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3835765.html#cutid1).

Roy is feeling overwhelmed. Being a guy, he's able to shove that all aside for a little while to enjoy what's right in front of him. Right now, that's Felicity's voice on the phone. His head is filled with images of Nyssa and Felicity together, and despite two sessions with his hands since dinner—one of which was all Barry's fault—he's ready to go again.

He asked for it. It seemed playful and fun, and frankly, a way to get some woman-energy on board. He and Barry have been deep into virtual sex the past week, which has been awesome. Roy is aware of the rising and falling rhythms between them, which he attributes to how much they each have going as guardians of their respective cities. 

Still, he has the same old yearning for a woman's touch. He's settling for a voice tonight.

"You still with me?" Felicity asks, and somehow she sounds shy, despite the explicit verbiage of the past ten minutes.

"Yeah," he says, aware of what his tone packs into the word. 

"So, here's the weirdest part…" she hesitates for a long moment. "From that vantage point, looking at Nyssa, I wanted to fuck her. Like a guy. I wanted to see myself _going in_."

Roy's eyes slide closed. He's studiously _not_ touching himself. 

"I can't, obviously, do that. I thought, well, who could I envision doing it for me, and there you were."

"Fucking her." He thinks he must sound incredulous, Felicity is so cluless.

"Generally speaking, I know how you move, most of your expressions, how you sound. And all of a sudden the perspective shifted and _I was you._ Inhabiting your body, fucking her from behind. All the way to the end."

Breathing hard, Roy considers the consequences of the next words, but his limbic system floods the wisdom part of his brain with paralyzing chemicals. "If I were in that room, I wouldn't have been fucking _Nyssa_." He hears Felicity's startled intake of breath, and he knows she understood him perfectly. "I should hang up now," he says, getting a tight grip on his intentions.

"Wait—" 

He doesn't hang up. But he doesn't say anything more. 

"Tell me," she says, sounding scared and hot for it. 

"Problem is, I don't want to _tell_ you, I want to be there with you," he replies, fervently. Near silence on the other end, he thinks he can hear her breathing. "But I know how complicated everything has gotten lately. For all of us. And tonight, for you. I can't imagine you trying to tell Ray about me too, so don't worry, I'm behaving."

"I'm sorry, I'm dragging you into my state of Fucking Crazy." She sounds on the verge of tears.

"Shhh, no way. I'm right here with you. Already was." He takes a moment to articulate what he's thinking. "It's like this. It was too long a dry spell for us. We forgot to be thirsty, and now we can't drink enough. " He takes in a deeper breath. "But I don't want to risk freaking you out."

"Roy, if you don't talk me through it, I'm getting in my car and coming over there."

 _Like that's a threat?_ his body yells back. He grits his teeth and does the right thing. "Don't. You have to see where things are going with Ray. I support that. But hypothetically, if you were to get in your car and drive here… would you want me to answer the door with or without clothing? In this neighborhood, no one cares." 

There's something like a swallowed whimper on the other end that makes his cock throb.

He makes his voice really gentle. "When I ask a question, I need a verbal answer, okay? I can't see you." He's pretty sure they could never talk like this with the cameras on.

"I can't decide," she says. "There's something mind-blowing about the idea of the door opening on naked you, but then… I couldn't take your clothes off."

He shivers. "This time, no."

"Oh, Wow," she replies, clearly boggled at the concept of a repeat. 

"If it helps you decide, I've been hard since about five minutes into this call—" he glances at the clock, "—twenty minutes ago. By now, the idea of putting clothing on is pretty unacceptable."

"No clothes, then," she breathes. And then she totally surprises him. "All those times I've seen you naked, you didn't even notice I was there, there wasn't anything sexual about it for you. But there was for me. You'd just strip down and I'd have to find a way not to look. Or to not look like I was looking."

It catches him off guard so that he just blurts out, "There only wasn't for me because I didn't think there was for you. Otherwise, I'd never have done that. I'm not like that… showing off." 

"That's what made it so hot. You have a gorgeous body, Roy. And I'm constantly confronted with half-naked hot bodies exerting themselves," she says ruefully, "so I know gorgeous."

He's flattered because it's her. Ashamed at the idea that she could be so professional that he would treat her as invisible. But his cock is fairly immune to shame. "I think you'd better stop talking like that… And if I'm hypothetically waiting fifteen minutes for you to get here, I'm going to have to keep busy or else there might not be much left when you arrive. So I'll take a shower. The kind in which I don't get off."

"You're lethal at this," Felicity observes. 

"Had the first practice of my life with Barry this past week."

"That's right... I have to get this out of the way—I didn't know you do guys. How could I be on the outside of that information?"

"Because I was on the outside? But we're not talking about that right now."

"But you _promised_."

"You pick. I can't do both. And last."

There's a strangled noise of frustration. "You answer the door. Naked. Right out of the shower."

"And still hard. I'd grab your hand and pull you inside the apartment. Neighborhood doesn't care but I'm not an exhibitionist. Is it okay to kiss you, or is that way too weird?"

"I'm already kissing you in my head," she says, voice ragged.

"Good. You've been through the mill tonight, so I'm guessing I don't have to worry about eating lipstick, I can get to know how you taste right away."

"What is it with the sudden makeup-bashing?" Felicity sounds bewildered. 

Roy's too caught up to get side-tracked. "You strike me as a girl who doesn't like her mouth being _plundered_ as the romance novels say."

"Not so much."

"Right. Good. I'm more of a sneak up on you slowly kisser."

"Of course you are," she breathes. "Perfect. But I'm way warmed up already, so you'll have your arms full." 

Roy is aching so hard he thinks he might be bruised from it, without touch. "What are you wearing?" he asks, trying not to sound creepy. 

She stifles a giggle. "I couldn't bear to come over there in my t-shirt and sweats. Patagonia sport dress, maybe."

"I'd like your sweats just fine," he says, meaning it. 

"But you showered."

"I'd rather you didn't," he says, letting heat flow into the words. "Assume you're in an extraordinary hurry. Skip the underwear, just throw on the shirt and sweats and get your ass over here. My cock is feeling pretty raw, and when you throw yourself at me like you just described, I'd be grateful for good old broken-in cotton."

An outright moan ends in part of a sentence, "…fucking hell!"

"You're not touching yourself, are you? 'Cause I'm having to be all disciplined over here in order to finish this damn scenario."

"I wouldn't… don't… argh!"

"Use your words."

"I know that guys beat off to porn, during it. I watch all the way through and then turn it off and… DIM."

It's interesting. He'd never considered a difference, and wonders if it's just Felicity, or other women too. "This isn't porn, it's a shared fantasy. I bet you don't wait all the way through what goes on in your head."

Another frustrated sound. "So then, I'm supposed to?"

"Just not _yet_. But whatever you might need, get ready, because I'm not stopping for explanations again." He can hear rustling, scrabbling, and stops himself asking about it. 

"We were just starting to kiss," she whispers, "I could hardly sense that first contact I was so stunned."

"You have a beautiful mouth, now I can experience it with my lips. Feel me now, how much I want it."

"I'm sucking your bottom lip into my mouth, I have to, I've wanted to kiss it for so long."

He can't answer, he's imagining it. 

"I used to touch your face, when I was taking care of you—it's important to stroke the skin of people in a coma—but I felt ashamed to _like_ it so much."

His heart hits full aerobic mode. "Did you ever kiss me?"

"Not like this, no, just little kisses on your face, never the lips. You couldn't consent or not consent."

"Son of a bitch," Roy swears.

"What's wrong?"

He stands up and looks around for his pants. "Changed my mind about clothing. I'm coming over there. For real, unless you say _no_ , right now, and if you do, you'd better mean it. I will not be freshly showered."

Dead silence, and then, "Do it."

He ends the call and is on the bike in four minutes. The air rushes by him cold, the streets are nearly empty. He's careful not to speed. He takes the stairs in multiples because waiting for the elevator isn't an option. Roy hits the door without knocking and finds it unlocked. Rolling his helmet to the counter, he meets her with significant force somewhere in her living room. 

He's not a burly guy, and her small, muscular body feels just right in his arms. He's careful with the kiss, easing into it, canting his jaw, but she's all for it, soft, open. He pulls her tighter, hands on her back, then her waist, then her ass. Her tongue sweeps into his mouth and, as promised, she sucks on his bottom lip which _gets_ him. Roy isn't pulling any punches, his cock is pressed fully against her. Felicity tangles a leg behind one of his, upping the pressure. Reluctantly, he leaves her mouth for her neck and catches an unfamiliar scent. _Nyssa_. He stifles a groan. "I'm sorry, I can't go slowly," he whispers.

"Hell with slow," Felicity replies and strips off his jacket, pulls his shirt over his head. Her hands fly over his bare shoulders and arms, squeezing gently, feeling the solidity of him. She lightly bites his collarbone. 

Not a fantasy—he understands that's what she's convincing herself of. He gathers her shirt and feels her hesitate. He murmurs into her ear. "I respect and love you. I think you're hot. Do _not_ insult my sexual intelligence." The shirt is quickly gone. He wants her skin pressed to his. Kisses her again. And lifts her against him to get her feet off the floor so he can take her to the bed where he eases her down. Off come his boots, socks, jeans, in the time it takes her to wrestle off her sweats. There's one thing he wants. Right now. He dives to the bed and rolls on his back. And realizes. "Shit! Please, please have—"

She interrupts him by tearing open a wrapper. She reaches out. Her hand hovers for a moment before she strokes him once, which blurs his vision.

"Oh, Roy," she says, and then gets the condom on him. 

He grabs both her hands and urges her above him. Surprise registers, but something else takes over fast, something fierce. She holds him steady and eases down. Both their groans mingle in his ears. After a moment, she rolls her hips. He makes a lot of noise in response. She does it again. Again. He clutches the lobes of her ass and then releases, in time with her rhythm. She slides down against his chest, braced low so she can get back to his mouth. 

Roy is thankful that he hasn't been starved lately, so that he can last more than a few cycles of being driven deep into her. He matches her rhythm, following her lead, loving being ridden, taken in by her. This is exactly what he craved. Her lips and her inner muscles work together, eliminating coherent thought. 

From the sound, she's close. He doesn't ask her, just silently prays for the right timing as he hovers on the edge. The little stutter in her smooth movement alerts him. As she ripples around him, he digs in his heels and arches up over and over, fast and hard, bringing his own crashing waves of relief. 

He wraps his arms around, holding her close, easy against him. "Felicity," he says, letting her know he's present to her. 

"Roy," she replies, against his neck in between breaths. 

Their little game, altered. "Three times in one night," he says, "Apiece."

"I'm going to be way sore," she agrees, with an edge of hilarity.

"You're amazing," he says. He feels her fingers tighten on his shoulders, and her lips press into his neck. He adds, "You're my friend. I still don't have expectations."

"It's so great that you _know_ that my mind started up again ten seconds ago, and you get exactly what I need to hear."

"I mean it."

"Back home, before I called the first time, it was Barry?"

"FaceTime, yeah."

"Weird to start the night with same-sex sex and end up here."

"Not weird. Uniquely us." He strokes her hair, threads her ponytail through his fingers. He's still hard and figures that's the best time to move them, so he rolls her, kisses her, while sliding free. She's watching him as he gingerly removes the condom from his abused skin. Her hands gently encircle the shaft, just holding him. He stretches for the bedside table without dislodging her. 

"I suppose it's strange to tell a man that he's beautiful?"

Roy shrugs. "I like hearing it. When it's said like _you_ mean it." He scooches closer between her thighs so he can sit comfortably back on his heels, letting himself stay in her hands as he slowly softens. Her eyes are questioning, so he continues, "Pretty boy, or Hey, beautiful, or stuff like that… isn't meant as a compliment—and it gets said a lot in anger or envy. I can't take personal credit for my bone structure or skin—that was luck of the draw." He doesn't say that Barry has made him _feel_ beautiful for the first time in his life. He isn't sure yet exactly where their post-coital candor boundaries are.

Felicity's eyes are shifting away from body to mind. "Hey, I'm feeling a little exposed here…" she says, dragging the sheet a bit over her torso.

"If you aren't cold, I'd like to stay a little longer. Just like this." He strokes up her thigh and over her belly. "I like the intimacy. Besides, you're holding my soft cock—not something I generally allow the first time I'm with somebody."

"I think I know you well, but you're surprising me."

He takes a risk. "I'm trying to be more like Barry—open. Vulnerable." She seems fine with it, nodding in agreement. "Which is how I ended up being with a guy the first time."

"Will there be more?"

His hand whispers down to cup her, extra carefully. "I want more of it, with him. I think he does too. Not necessarily more guys." 

Her brows draw together. "Things are complicated…"

"Yeah. I know about Oliver. And Dig. Just found out—way to leave me out of the loop, BTW," he chides, gently. She's distracted for a moment. He slides fingers in, moves in slow exploration, nothing sexual, just because she's allowing him to be this close to her. 

She sighs, shoulders nestling deeper in the pillow. "I haven't known for long. Found out by accident. It didn't seem my place to tell you if they wouldn't tell either of us."

"I guess they thought I'd be judging them." He can't help but sound disappointed.

" _They_ were judging them," Felicity says with a small smile.

Roy slowly pulls his hand free. "They still don't know that I know. Or about Barry and me. Barry's got that covered tomorrow—today, I mean. He wanted to do it in person."

Felicity whistles low. "That'll be interesting. Like when I talk with Ray in daylight." She covers her face with a hand.

Roy slips down beside her and slings an arm over her waist. His face nestles into the crook of her neck. "He's lucky to be with you, and he knows it. Hasn't asked you for an exclusive. I guess hearing about tonight will pull it into focus if he has a problem sharing you." He doesn't try to talk her out of telling. He knows now that most secrets are poisonous.

"I think he's going to have to," she says, sounding resolute. "I'm not sure I recognize myself. But I can't ignore all of this." She turns her face toward him. "Sleep over? It's almost 4:30. I can't bear the thought of you going out in the cold."

"Sure," he replies, happy to do so.

They wrestle the bedclothes out from under themselves and snuggle in. 

"Um, what'll you tell Barry?" 

Roy thinks about that for a long minute. "I think he'll understand. You okay?"

"I feel great. A little dizzy, but great. You haven't made this weird at all. And somehow, I haven't either."

"Just teamwork," he replies, "We do it all the time."

She laughs at that, and he lets himself fall asleep.  
*******

 

They've met halfway between their cities, trying to make it easier on everyone. Across the checkered tablecloth in the pizza café, Barry leans closer. "I'm sorry for the difficult arrangements," he says. "I needed to talk to you both in person, at the same time."

John looks relaxed, but Oliver doesn't. "Are you breaking up with us?" Oliver asks, earnestly, without preamble. The near-noon sun reflected into the café makes his eyes extra blue.

The concept of breaking up implies commitment. It feels good. "No. But you might with me in a few minutes. I hope not, but I'll certainly understand." John doesn't look so relaxed any longer. Barry decides to rip off the band-aid. "When Roy called me for help—while you were away—the second night, we ended up… together." The way he says it, there isn't any doubt of meaning.

There's a long moment, while expressions turn confused and then resolve into incredulity. "Our Roy," John restates.

Barry swallows hard. He nods.

"And we've been afraid to tell him about us," John smiles but it's wry, like a joke has been well-played.

"I did _not_ break it to him, it wasn't my place. He brought it to me, when we thought you might be… gone," Barry's voice breaks but he pushes on. "I didn't feel I could deny it."

Oliver leans closer, puts a hand on his leg. "I'm so sorry about minimizing that mission. We should have brought you in. It's just that we got in the usual rhythm—"

"I know, danger is our middle names, right?" Barry interrupts. "But it made me realize that I'm in… deeper than you are."

"Barry—"

Barry holds up a hand. "I don't mean to compare, that's not our deal. You offered me something absolutely transparent. You've held up your end, you've both been amazing. I'm not saying I want it to stop or change. I'm just disclosing that, as it turns out, it isn't easy for me to just be physical."

"It's not just physical," John says, "speaking for myself." He doesn't seem upset, but Barry feels something like anxiety rolling off him. 

"Me either," Oliver echoes. His expression is irked.

"Oh." Barry looks at his glass, tries to digest the dramatic change in assumptions.

"I'll grant that I'm not the best at showing that," Oliver says, his tone droll. "And there've been no promises, no rules between us. I'm just a little… thrown. Not sure what throws me more, that you want Roy, or that Roy wants you and I didn't know him well enough to realize it, I mean… Thea." 

"Thea's real for him. Just inaccessible. I know a thing or two about that."

Oliver's eyes look _guilty_. "Did you try to… pay it forward?"

Barry's shaking his head before he knows it. "Not like that. He asked me how I was coping with my own rejection. I gave him a hypothetical, without identifying anyone, let him think it was happening back home. We talked, he was surprisingly cool about it all, went on about our work. But by that night, he had put it all together. He approached me. You know I haven't been a fan of Roy," Barry says, embarrassed, "but he was different. Direct. Vulnerable. I went with it, gave him the cover of need and trust. It felt right in the moment."

"I totally misread him," John says, regretfully. 

"Yeah, gang stuff. He's new to the idea himself," Barry said. "Apparently, something about a red candle started the thoughts knocking around consciously." He doesn't mean it to sound mischievous. 

Looking extremely uncomfortable, Oliver says, "Shit," under his breath.

"He said he's relieved that's _not_ what you meant, because that isn't your relationship. But he also felt disappointed, which got him realizing some things. Look, it should be him telling you that part. I'm supposed to talk about myself. I asked him not to reveal anything until I had a chance to come clean. So, there it is." Barry places his hands open, palms down on the table. "It didn't feel like cheating in the moment. But afterward… I don't know."

"It wasn't cheating," John says, firmly. 

Barry feels a flush start. "We were safe," he adds. "I should have said that right away, sorry." Belatedly, he realizes that might convey even more information than he means it to.

"Are you… continuing?" Oliver asks.

"Fair question. We haven't seen each other again. But we've been talking a lot. The offer's open on his side. He said he doesn't expect _this_ to change. But I imagine I've introduced one complication too many for the two of you. So I needed to talk with you first."

"Is it for you?" Oliver asks. "Too complicated?"

Feeling like his insides are on the outside, Barry does his best to give an answer. "It seems I attach fast. I think you can see that in me. I'm afraid to lose the closeness we have, if I haven't already blown that. What's a little more complexity?"

Oliver nods. He glances at John, a deeply encoded exchange. Oliver shifts in his seat. "I feel… possessive, which is unexpected. I haven't felt that way about you being with Dig alone, or you with someone I don't know, but I had time to adjust to that idea. I need to unpack _why_ this feels different, but I can do that on my own time."

A little ashamed of how nice it is that Oliver feels possessive toward him, Barry says, "I understand. I can be a patient person. Even though it doesn't seem like it."

John's fingers are suddenly threaded with his own. On the table. "I don't think Oliver's saying what you're hearing." His thumb strokes over the back of Barry's hand. "I know he's hard to read, try it your way." He lets go of Barry's hand.

Barry takes a deep breath and pays attention to the vibrations immediately around him. The seemingly inanimate objects, a bug dormant somewhere under the booth, the murmur of other voices. The high-pitched waves of sunlight. John's low, soothing baseline with an edge of excitement overlaid. Interesting. 

When he finds Oliver, he recognizes the variation of signature from the first day in his apartment, only stronger. Pulsing. Pegging the meter. Fear, anticipation, want, _love_ , desperation, fear, a cycle contained with conscious control of breath and heartbeat. Barry lets it in, and what rolls back off him widens both sets of eyes across the table. He pulls out his wallet and pays the check, glad that it came with the food. "Where can we go?" he asks.  
*******

 

Felicity's phone is buzzing when she exits the shower. A shower was a way not to wake Roy with a fuck, his just-before-waking erection singing its siren song under the thin sheet. It's Ray. She squeezes her eyes shut and answers, dripping on the mat. 

"Hi, Ray," she says, and the warmth is sincere. She very much does like him, wants him, wants to know whether there could be more. For all his unconventional ways, she suspects that he aspires to one-on-one business partnership, marriage. She's not sure that fits her.

"Morning, beautiful," he replies. "Well, almost not morning."

"I'm sure you were up at dawn. I slept in."

"Good for you. I wanted to hear your voice. Up here in the mountains."

"Are you with your group?"

"The guys are fighting over who makes a better fire. We might never have lunch."

She pulls a towel around herself. "I'd prefer not to do this over the phone, but it can't wait."

"Okay." Of course, he sounds immediately apprehensive.

"First, I care about you deeply. How deeply, I don't know yet, but I know I don't want to lose you. Second, you're the best lover I've ever had."

"Wow. That's amazing to hear. And it sounds suspiciously like you're going to say that you don't want to see me anymore." 

She can hear pain in his voice and hastens to say, "I _do_ want to keep seeing you. So here's the thing. Before you, I'd been celibate for, yikes, a couple of years."

"I didn't know."

"Not something a girl advertises. Threw myself into to jobs and after-hours nerd projects. I went dormant—except for porn. And then you woke me up." She leaves out the crush on Oliver, the fantasies, the disappointment. He already knows that.

There's a smile in his voice when he says, "That's a sweetly fairy tale description. Except for the porn part."

She sighs. "Last night, Nyssa made a pass at me."

"League of Assassins, Nyssa?"

"She made a play that I didn't realize was a pass until it had gone by. I came back here and thought about it."

"You had sex with her." It's a conclusion and a question, with inflections of heat and hurt, all at the same time.

"I did," She closes her eyes again, biting her lip. 

He's so quiet for a moment, she can hear the background noise of birds and wind. "I'm sensing that it must have been remarkable, because you sound so guilty." It isn't accusatory or angry, but the hurt is there. "You shouldn't feel guilty, we're not pledged to one another. There hasn't been time for that yet. I got a little drunk and nearly picked up a bartender last night with some egging on from the guys."

"Oh, Ray, it's so much worse." She leans back against the counter. "I can't explain myself, but I still have to tell you, so that you know the full package of crazy you're dealing with."

"Lay it on me." He sounds resolute.

"I couldn't call you in the wee hours this morning, so I called Roy. He was supportive, reassuring, mentioned something he's recently done himself that he knew I would find out of character. We ended up—"

"Holy fucking hell!" Ray swears.

She flinches. "I know, I know." She can hear him pacing. "I'm sorry."

He heaves a big breath. Swears again. She doesn't prompt him, just waits. Finally, he says, "I do appreciate the honesty. I just don't know what to do with the information. Two in one night." More pacing. "Tell me Roy was overcompensation for an orientation panic."

"I wish I could. It might be part of it, but it isn't all of it. I was completely sober. Everything was safe, deliberate. I can't justify it away."

"Okay. I need some time. The rest of the trip at least. Radio silence."

Her eyes are tearing up, which suggests that he means more to her than she thought might be the case. "Understood."

"Felicity. I like you. So much. I didn't ask for exclusivity. I just don't know whether I can share to that extent."

"I didn't ask you to."

"Clearly, you _needed_ this. And what if it isn't temporary? I have to think about that."

"I know."

"This is not goodbye," he says firmly. "It's hold on for a goddamn minute. Okay?"

"Yeah," she sniffles, hating that she's crying. "I hope this doesn't ruin your trip."

"Thank God I'm on this trip. It's exactly the place to process my mind being blown." He says, more softly, "Stop crying. Do what you need to do. I mean it. If we're going to be together it has to be as our real selves, right? I'll be okay, and I'll call in a few days." He hangs up. 

She cries in earnest, trying to be quiet. She should know better. Roy opens the door and pulls her to him. She's chilled and hurting and he knows to just hold her.  
*******

 

The town is a station stop with several hotels within blocks. They choose one of the business places. Oliver checks in while Barry and John get coffees. Barry wonders if expectations run in their favor or not—hotel staff see everything. Does three men carrying coffee up to a room just look like meeting prep, or an afternoon threesome? He decides he doesn't give a damn.

In the room, he goes straight to Oliver. They haven't been with each other since they were all three together. Intending to initiate, to show his undiminished enthusiasm, Barry is taken aback by the force of Oliver's response. Their mouths connect so hard, he nicks his lip on Oliver's canine. The physical difference between them, which is not a factor if he flashes, is evident in real time. Oliver is tearing off clothing, sucking Barry's skin to bruising, like his life depends on it, nudging him toward the bed with his larger body. 

Barry isn't sure precisely where in the room John is, but feels his presence, steady, staying out of it, trusting. But poised to intervene. 

Instead of yielding, Barry gives back a little force, destined to lose a strength game but sensing that the struggle matters. He lets Oliver know how much he likes the kissing, does some clothing damage himself, twists Oliver's cock in an unmercifully good way. A few minutes later, naked on his back under the storm, he let's himself be still, hoping that his eyes show Oliver that everything will be okay. He feels the undercurrent of anger, gets it in a deep way, knows that he's feeding it back, maybe at a lower frequency, but not channeling it away. It takes a moment for Oliver to stop avoiding his gaze. 

"God, Barry." Oliver says, hovering on his arms, his legs locked against Barry's. But he's starting to calm.

Barry squeezes his shoulder. "It's okay to be pissed."

"I don't have any right."

"You do. We have a _thing_ , whatever it is. You and Roy have a special thing of a different sort. They've gotten mixed up all of a sudden. Last you and I had a chance to talk, I couldn't stand Roy. How could that not be confusing?"

John settles near them on the bed, still fully clothed. "Anger isn't the root problem." He lays a hand on Oliver's back. Oliver's eyes slide closed. 

"No." He moves off to sit and pulls Barry up. His face shows the difficulty of summoning the words. "I love Roy. But I might be a little _in love_ with you."

Barry can feel sudden radiant warmth from John, and it surprises him as much as what Oliver's saying. "Oh. Um, Wow." He turns his face to John. "How does that not bother you?"

"A couple weeks ago Oliver and I were shoulder to shoulder in a dungeon about to be executed, or so we thought. I know _exactly_ how this man feels about me, how I feel about him. Nothing's rocking that." He cups a big hand around the back of Barry's head. "You're very special to me. I had a chance to tell you that, to show you. Oliver hasn't."

Barry ducks in and kisses John, slowly, intensely. "Thank you," he says. He moves to take Oliver's face in both his hands. "I think the best thing is for you to experience what I feel for you rather than to hear me try to explain." He lets the vibrations flow out more than usual, revisiting the shock of their physicality, his emotional response, the sense of loss he felt, the joy and relief at their safety, the longing for more, the surprise of Roy, the need to be here now. 

Oliver's small shudder transmits back through Barry's fingertips. Barry kisses him, not the earlier struggle, but nurturing, encouraging, until Oliver is moaning into it under his breath. He pulls Oliver back down on top of him, their bodies entwining instead of fighting. 

The few minutes of slow undulations in which feet rub together, hands twist under and over each other, skin caresses skin slowly without force, it hardly seems enough, but Oliver suddenly comes in the press of their bellies. Caught up in the urgency, the hard spurts against his own cock, Barry speeds a couple of thrusts and is _there_ before Oliver finishes, sharing the final shocks.  
*******

 

Roy rocks Felicity while she cries. He doesn't give her platitudes, just physical comfort. It takes several minutes for her to quiet. "You're freezing," he says, and bundles her back in the shower. 

In a small, messed up voice she says, "Come in with me?" 

He does, worried that although he's in comforting friend mode, naked showering with her is well above his cock's tolerance for keeping to itself. He's right. Holding her under the hot water, her skin slick against him, leads to hardness. "I'm sorry," he says, "ignore that."

"What if I don't want to?" Just like that, her hand is on him.

He lets a breath out slowly to avoid making a demanding noise. He gently pushes her hand away and bites at her neck, down her sternum, licks at the skin between her breasts until he knows it isn't presumptuous to tongue her nipples and then suck them. She likes it so much more than he expects that his cock goes from hard to _insisting_. 

Roy cuts the water, pulls her out of the shower behind him, starts toweling her hair and the rest of her. He kisses her until neither of them can breathe right. "Go find me a condom," he says, playfully, "I'll be right there." She's gone in a millisecond. He dries himself off as slowly as he can bring himself to do, gathering control. 

When he exits the bathroom, he's faced with that fantastic round ass. He pads to the bed and finds the condom packet open next to her knee. "Mind reader. When you described your fantasy overlay of the actual sex with Nyssa, this is what I saw, not her. He knees up on the bed, angles himself with a firm hand on her ass. "You want this?"

"Please."

He pushes in, a sweet relief. She shoves back against him. He proceeds to give her a massive pounding, loving how hard she wants it. Finally, he has to stop, knowing she isn't going to climax from just the penetration. He withdraws and rolls her, fitting himself back inside as soon as possible. Her legs wrap around him. "You are incredibly sexy," he says. "Like I told Barry, hot rocket scientist." 

She gasps. "I won't pry, but you can tell me anything. I hope you know that."

He rocks their hips together, maintaining steady pressure between them. He sees in her eyes the building, how close she is to slipping away. As she cants her hips further, he leans in harder, helping her. "I got him to fuck me, face to face, very much like this." That does it, as he suspected it might. He rides it out, thinking her orgasms are beautiful. 

"That's not what I meant by _you can tell me anything_ ," she finally says between heaving breaths.

"I know." He smiles down at her. "That was a bonus. For being such a good friend."

She laughs. "How did you not lose it just now?"

"Not easy. Go back to the first position?"

She answers by pushing him out of her and rolling over, ass up in the air. He takes her slowly this time, inch by inch going in, a slow slide out, gradually upping the pace. It seems that she likes it, even sated, telling him how good it feels until he cries out, straining against her.  
*******

 

Barry rolls Oliver under him and then drops off the bed onto his knees in front of John. Smiling at him, John shakes his head. "Not necessary."

Skimming a hand over John's jeans, teasing the ridge underneath, Barry says, "Beg to differ." He slips the belt and buttons. His fingers dip inside to wrangle underwear and retrieve what he's after. 

He likes having his mouth full in this particular way. Adores the sound in John's throat in response, his sensitivity. John leans back on one arm, the other hand comes to rest on Barry's head. Barry wrestles the thick denim down John's legs because he wants to feel bare thighs against his sides. He cradles John from underneath too where he can deliver little unexpected touches at just the right times. 

Oliver sits up to watch. He leans into John's ear. "Before any of this, did you ever look at his mouth and find yourself imagining this?"

"Not consciously." But there's an extra twitch in John's response, and Barry twists mouth and hand in opposite directions. John groans dangerously. Oliver kisses him. Barry slips two fingers behind balls and strokes. John's hips thrust, held back but challenging Barry's ability to manage. 

John's shirt drops next to Barry courtesy of Oliver's hands. Oliver voice says, "Let me see him shoot, it's amazing." 

Something about the words, the picture they make, causes Barry's ass—not an known erogenous zone—to spasm with pleasure. He files that away under _things to discover_ and swirls his tongue around the head. John's fingertips give him a warning. He pulls off, both hands tight. Streamers fly up, landing on John's bare chest, his belly, and Oliver's cheek. 

When the shuddering stops, Barry lets go. He goes for a washcloth—in real time—remembering Roy's admonition. Oliver takes it from him and does the wiping down, taking his time about it. 

Barry sits back at John's feet. "I really like doing that," he says. His lips feel slightly swollen. 

John kicks out of his tangled underwear and jeans. "Come here," he suggests, reclining on the bed. Barry crawls into his arms. Oliver spoons behind him. They don't fill the silence with words. Six hands stroke, ever so lightly. Hearts beat, gradually slowing. Barry finds the vibrations lengthening, the differences among them fewer. He rubs his cheek against John's shoulder, tangles his fingers with Oliver's. 

A thought intrudes. "Joe knows," he says, feeling John tense beneath him. "Turns out its okay. That's the only reason I'm saying anything. He sprang it on me that night after you drove away. Apparently, I'm terrible at keeping a secret by not saying anything."

John scrubs a hand over his face. "It was me," he sighs. " Outed us to your cop dad. I'm slipping. Body language."

"Body wash too," Barry chuckles. "But he figured out the Oliver part without much to go on. At least his talents aren't wasted in his career." Barry thinks about whether to give full disclosure and opts to do it. "He said that you'd only hurt me by dying to protect Oliver, who would only hurt me because he can't let himself be happy." He turns enough to meet Oliver's eyes as Oliver props on an elbow behind him.

"It almost happened," Oliver observes. "But we're here. I'm trying to deserve to be happy."

Both John and Barry make dismissive noises. Barry lets John do the talking. "You deserve to be happy, full stop. You deserve to be loved. Go out in the world and earn other stuff, not that."

"Okay, okay. I'll say this. Barry, I will try not to hurt you. And I'm glad that you have Roy too. Truly."

"I wouldn't say I have Roy," Barry replies, dryly. He slides to his back so he can see Oliver's whole face.

"Take it where it goes," Oliver says. "I'll still be here. Feeling a bit possessive of both of you, but I'll cope."

"I'll let Roy know I told you. Then, he's going to want to talk to you both too. He didn't want to hide it."

Oliver groans. "God, it never occurred to me that the meditation session could have any come-on connotations. He must have been freaking out."

Barry laughs. John joins. Oliver looks only mildly put out.  
*******

 

They agree not to do this again for at least a month, no matter what. They both understand the hazards of chemistry. Roy jokes that he'll make an exception if she decides to practice with a strap-on before using it with Nyssa. He thinks it shocks her a little, but then she warms to it pretty fast. 

"You do have a killer ass for a boy," she says. Her brow wrinkles. "I know it's _de rigueur_ for men to want to fuck other people in the ass, but taking it… not so much fun in my experience. Especially if the guy's well-endowed."

"My prostate apparently disagrees," Roy says, unabashedly answering several unasked questions. "I just have the one experience, but I intend to do it lots more."

"I guess my lack of prostate explains it, then. That, and Barry's pretty special."

An idea occurs to him, which he does not share. It isn't the time or context. They part at her door with a friendly hug and smooch. 

Before he climbs on his bike, he thumbs through his phone. _News delivered and surprisingly well accepted_ ," reads the first text, unencrypted. He breathes a sigh. He examines his thoughts to see whether _well accepted_ sparks any jealousy. It doesn't. He replies encrypted, _Good. I miss you in person. Let me know when we can talk._ He rides to check on the cave—can't help but think of it as that now. John and Oliver will be home late tonight, but for the moment, it's up to him. 

At around 4 p.m., Barry calls. That means the other two are on the train. "Hi," he says, eagerly. 

"Hey," Barry says, sounding warm and snuggly. 

Apparently, thorough sexual satisfaction doesn't make them bored with each other. "So, I'm not getting fired?"

"You'd never be," Barry scoffs. "Oliver is a little thrown, as he put it. Dig was surprised, but he adapted more quickly. I said you'd have told them right away except I asked you not to. I think by the time they left, it was fine."

"Work some magic, did you?" Roy asks and it comes out sounding dirtier than he meant. They both laugh, a little giddy. Roy reminds himself that he knows why for Barry, but Barry doesn't know why for him. "I need to confess something. I spent the last half of last night and most of today _with_ a woman."

"Good for you!" It sounds genuine although there's something else there.

"Not Thea."

"Really?" Barry now sounds way curious, but he doesn't press.

"Don't kill me, it was a freak event."

"As long as the word _Iris_ is not next out of your mouth, you're safe." Barry's tone is not at all joking.

Roy holds his breath. "Felicity."

"Get the fuck out of town!" Thank God, he doesn't sound angry. 

"I know, right?"

"She's got something going with Ray. I thought."

"Yeah. They had a bit of a blowout over it this morning. Not sure what will happen."

"So after that… you did it again." Barry has done the time math.

Roy's face is hot. "Yeah. Let me tell you what started the whole thing. Not an excuse, but an explanation." He does. Barry is swiftly running through his limited vocabulary of colorful words when he adds, "No man could withstand that." 

"You would have."

"Dunno. Maybe. Depends on what I'd promised to whom first. You're in the clear with me. Just don't… hurt her."

"I wouldn't! She and I agreed not to do anything for at least a month. Keep the chemistry from building."

There's a moment of silence on the other end. "Is that why…?"

"Barry. I'd see you tonight if we could get in the same city."

"How about next weekend?"

"My place, or yours?"

"Halfway. I know a joint now. I'm looking to get a reputation with the staff."

"Done. So, we're okay."

"We're more than okay, we're great." Barry's voice is mellow and happy.

The relief deep in Roy's gut is a little alarming. "Tonight? After I finish at the cave."

"I'll call at 11:30, okay? If I don't, then, call me, it means Joe's bending my ear."

"And if I don't answer, it means Oliver killed me." 

The next few hours move slowly. Roy finds himself repeating routine tasks toward the mark when he expects them to arrive. Finally, he hears the keypad. He pretends to be focused on the computer until they hit the bottom of the stairs. "Hey, guys," he says, looking up. 

Dig's smile is half twisted with humor. Oliver is shaking his head. He comes over and hauls Roy out of the chair. "I feel like a horse's ass," Oliver says.

He really can't read Oliver. "I… I'm sorry. I had to honor Barry's request."

"Okay, mule's ass now. _I'm_ the one who's sorry." His fingers are tight on Roy's arms. "I shouldn't have hidden any of this from you."

" _We_ shouldn't have," John corrects. 

Roy shrugs as much as he can in Oliver's grip. "I get now that I project certain things that aren't so. Defensively. How could you know that?"

"Because I trust all my other secrets with you," Oliver replies, earnestly.

"Oh." It puts him at a loss.

Oliver's hands soften and he pulls Roy into a hug. Which Roy returns, holding on extra hard. "I thought you'd be mad at me for moving on Barry _after_ figuring it out."

Letting him go, Oliver leans back on the counter. "Barry is… "

"Pretty much impossible to resist," John finishes. "It kind of boggles the mind."

"We have to make a pact, right now, not to assume that any of us is paying proper attention to him at any given time." Oliver sounds regretful. "We can't let him get lost again in the chaos of our lives."

"And, in doing so, it would be good to avoid awkward… overlaps," John adds.

Roy answers, "Right. Barry is a priority for me. I don't know where it's going, but I'm putting him first. And I have a few other things to say. They're difficult things, so please let me make it through before you tell me your reactions." He waits for both to nod. "I've concluded recently that I'm a guy-girl, guy-guy sort of person. Not straight." He pauses. They're listening, body language isn't hostile. "Not everyone wants a label and I don't label anyone else—Barry, for example." He finds himself pacing along the counter and back. 

John is standing just across from Oliver at one end of the lane between the counters, his posture easy. Roy keeps his distance so that his words aren't misconstrued. "Personally, I don't mind _bi_ and I think it's accurate." Now, for the truly hard part. "It shouldn't be a secret to either of you that I'm attached to you. I'm sure that subconsciously, I've also been attracted to each of you. But it wasn't until, um, the mediation instruction, that I had an actual thought of something happening between us." He holds up a hand at Oliver's immediate shift in posture. "Hang on. I know you didn't mean anything, it became clear really fast. I wanted it in the moment, I'm not gonna lie. But I was relieved you didn't go there. Our roles, the way we fit as a team, yeah, that'll change over time no matter what. But I like how we are together." 

He looks at John, specifically. "I'm a little more vulnerable now, having accepted what I am. I'm looking at guys differently." He can feel his face getting hot. "And yes, I look at you both differently now. If you catch me doing that, please don't get drawn into it, I'm not consciously making a move. I might need help keeping boundaries at first. I know that's a lot to ask. Okay, I'm done. Thanks for listening."

Oliver and John look at one another. This time, he sees in their silent communication so much more than ever before. Oliver nods. John parks a hip on the counter edge. "I accept the label myself. But it took me a long time." He seems to consider his next words carefully. "I'm committed to Oliver. I have been ever since we met in one way and then another. Barry has presented a rare exception, maybe the only one. I'm telling you that because I wouldn't want you to think, especially in a fledgling, vulnerable state, that you aren't highly desirable. I'll see you differently too, necessarily, but it won't change how we're teammates together. So when I reach out to you, same as I always have, know that."

Gratefulness is the primary emotion he feels. _Not on the outside any longer_. Even so, he's still a little afraid to look at Oliver. The role model, the idol, looms as large as ever, even as the man as he knows him becomes more human. He makes himself meet Oliver's eyes, shocked to see tears. Reflexively, he chokes up himself. By the time he has taken a step, Oliver is there, pulling him in, lips pressing to his forehead. It's a long, safe embrace, enveloped at some point by John.  
*******

 

Felicity stares at the phone in her hand for a long time, it seems. She has done some educational reading and visited a sex shop, returning not with the joked-about appliance but with dams and honey dust and self-warming massage creme. She thinks that Nyssa should be treated to some respectful and thorough reciprocity. Finally, she hits Nyssa's number. "Up for some company?" she asks, and holds her breath for the reply.  
*******


End file.
